The gentle musings of a madman…

You always hope that the locks to your house are secure against people trying to break in until you’re the one trying to break in.

If that was already obvious to you, then, chances are, you wouldn’t be the type to lock yourself out of your house anyway, so congratulations on having your life together and stop rubbing it in the rest of our faces.

Today, 7:20 PM

It’s dusk as we pull into the garage. Reaching around my distended stomach—courtesy of five too many chicken wings—I scoop up our takeout, Walmart purchases, and my cat-print tote bag before clambering out of the car.

Mom heads to the door first and twists the doorknob. Nothing happens. A look of abject horror twists her features, and she jiggles the knob again. We’re locked out.

The cat, on the other side, meows dolefully, as if to lament: “Who will feed me now?”